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What are you waiting for?
...Written upon the walls of my mind-heart...
in the room there where exists the
true-keeper of my love-flame
is a record of the good good times as well as
wrongs and pains and lost-love-lost...
of misery and mirth, life and death and birth...
carved soul-deep with a dull-edged, rusted axe
wielded by my own sure hand.
And so the poet cried one silver
tear of wisdom and once
it had slipped his cheek...
he thought it lost...but, no....
A black beetle drank of it and supped.
He ran away then...
...bright-eyed and six-legged.
